The Silence of Regeneration
by moonshoesklaine
Summary: Basically a little something I wrote for my Welsh coursework a while back


It was silent.

That was the first thing that Clara noticed. The air around her was thick with dust, and as it settled on the ground beneath her she was able to take in a full view of her surroundings for the first time since they had landed.

Well, crashed would be a better word for it.

The second thing she noticed was that the Doctor was nowhere to be found.

Usually, she couldn't go five minutes without hearing him ramble on about his previous adventures or complain at how the TARDIS would run much more efficiently if she had the number of pilots that it was supposed to have. She recalled him telling her about how he and some friends had once flown the TARDIS like she was meant to be flown and pulled the earth back into its rightful place in orbit as if it was just some player on a football field and not some major operation to right time and space.

She remembered telling him to shut up and playfully pushing him in the arm. His eyes grew sad as his mind continued to plague him about the companions that he had lost and the way in which he had lost them.

Right now she would give anything in the world to see the lost look in his eyes, because at least that way, she would know that he was alive.

Clara turned to her left and caught a glimpse of charred wood; wood that had once belonged to the TARDIS. To her right wasn't much better, though instead of charred wood, the ground was littered with pieces of scrap metal, rusting on the edges, flames licking the side of them.

A broken cough stole her attention.

Struggling up onto weak legs, she strained her neck to see the dishevelled figure of the man she once knew. His face was barely recognisable now.

The pain that was once concealed and limited to behind his eyes was now evident all over his face. Grazes and cuts took up the majority of his face, and the fringe that Clara had grown ever-so-fond-of was matted in clumps of dark crimson blood.

As fast as she was able to, she threw herself down onto the ground currently providing the bed for the Doctor. Her hands immediately flew to his body, scanning over it helplessly as she tried to help in any way she could.

The last time they had been in this situation, she was about to enter the Doctor's time stream, and into a world of unbelievable pain. No physical pain would have or could ever match up to the turmoil that she was going through in this particular second, as she realised that she could do nothing to help her Doctor.

A weak groan escaped the Doctor's chapped lips as he hauled himself up off of the floor.

"Clara- Clara you have to go." 

"Not happening space boy. In case you haven't noticed, my lift is currently burning amongst a pile of scrap metal. Yours too as it goes."

He shook his head and grasped the back of it with both hands as it exploded with pain at the small movement.

"No, Clara. Really, you don't understand."  
"Then make me."

He slowly brought his hands in front of his face, and Clara expected them to be dripping with blood, or some alien excretion at least, so her jaw dropped open as his hands began to glow.

Golden embers flaked away from his hands as they floated up into the atmosphere and disappeared like small specks of dust. Some succumbed to gravity and found their final resting place on the ground of the planet.

"Clara. I'm dying. You have to go. Step back, at least. Please."

She shook her head violently at the thought, "No. No you're not. You're not dying on me, Doctor. You can't die on me. You can't die. That's who you are."

"I can die, Clara, and I am. I'm going for good this time. This-"he broke off as he gestured to the golden glow emanating from his every limb, "-this isn't going to keep me going. There isn't enough energy left in me. I can get half way through the regeneration, but that's about it. Clara. Do you trust me?"

"With my life."

There was no hesitation in her answer. She did trust the Doctor with her life, and would never trust another human in the same way.

"Then please, go. I will make sure you make it back safely."

When it looked as if she as about to protest, the Doctor was quick to hold his finger up, "Would you hold a key to an unlocked door?"  
"Doctor, what are-?"  
"No. Just answer the question. Would you hold a key to an unlocked door?"  
"Well, no. There would be no point."

"Exactly. There's no point in you staying here just to watch me die. Please, Clara. Would you turn your back at least?"

Reluctantly, she nodded and turned her back to the Doctor, squeezing her eyes shut as the final stage took place.

She heard the Doctor's agonising screams, as every single part of his DNA was re-written. Unable to help herself, she opened her eyes, but her back remained turned, eyes trained on the remains of the TARDIS.

As the Doctor continued to writhe around in pain, and golden light continued to break out of him at a record breaking speed, the bruised and battered body of the TARDIS showed the images that Clara didn't want to see. The flames grew higher as the golden light hit the TARDIS, and Clara could only imagine what was happening behind her back.

Then, almost as quickly as it started, it stopped.

As the Doctor's screams fell silent, and the light began to fade, Clara could finally understand why the Doctor was dead. He had been dying since the day he was born, just at a slower speed than the human population. The day he stole the TARDIS had already created the day of his death.

She had planned this.

All those years ago, the Doctor had stolen the TARDIS;

And now she had stolen his life.

As Clara felt her own body gravitate back down towards her home planet of earth, she understood.

Clara was silent.


End file.
